


we get along (for the most part)

by lesbianryuko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Fluff, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianryuko/pseuds/lesbianryuko
Summary: Edelgard challenges Dimitri to a series of trials to determine which of them is superior. Hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Step By Step: A Dimitri & Edelgard Siblings Zine





	we get along (for the most part)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this was written for the [step by step](https://twitter.com/CoF_Zines/status/1337769302284492803?s=20) zine, which focuses on dimitri and edelgard's sibling relationship!! download it while you can; it's only available until jan 31! there are so many wonderful pieces :D
> 
> fic title from "grow up" by paramore <3 enjoy!

It’s a Friday evening, and Dimitri is hanging out in the living room of his apartment-style dorm at Garreg Mach University, playing MarioKart with Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix. In the middle of their fourth race, Edelgard enters the apartment—without even knocking—and plops down next to Dimitri on the couch.

“Dimitri,” she declares, “I challenge you.”

Dimitri barely looks away from the screen. His sister always says odd things like this. “Challenge me? To what? MarioKart?”

“No, not MarioKart,” Edelgard says exasperatedly, as if it’s obvious that that’s not what she’s talking about. “I challenge you to a bet to prove which one of us is better.”

“Better at what?”

“Just _better_ ,” Edelgard says. “We’re siblings, and we’re the same age, but one of us has to be _superior_ , right?”

“I…don’t think so,” Dimitri says, cringing as Felix hits him with a red shell and then zips past him. “I think it evens out. Like how I’m taller than you, but you’re older than me.”

“Personally,” Sylvain chimes in, because he kicks hornets’ nests like it’s his job, “I think this competitive nature of yours is very capitalistic, Edel.”

Felix shoots Sylvain a look as though he’s just opened up the gates of hell, but Edelgard doesn’t take the bait.

“I just think it would be fun to have a little friendly competition,” she says. “It’s been so long since we last did something like this.”

“Very well. I’ll bite,” Dimitri says as they finish the race. “How do you propose we determine which of us is _superior_?”

“We’ll test five different areas of expertise,” Edelgard says matter-of-factly. “Speed, strength, knowledge, courage, and skill.”

Dimitri snorts. “What are we, video game characters?”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Edelgard taunts. “I’ll have you know I added strength to the mix just to give you an easy win, so you already have the advantage.”

Dimitri sets the Switch controller down. “If it will sate your thirst for competition, then I accept your challenge,” he says with an amused smile. “Just…let me finish my homework first.”

—

The next morning, Dimitri accompanies Edelgard to the Student Rec Center, where their first two challenges will take place.

“First up: speed,” Edelgard says, pulling her brown hair up into a ponytail. They scan their student IDs at the entrance and head past the security people in the lobby. Since it’s before noon on a Saturday, it doesn’t seem to be too terribly crowded.

The rec center is a large, clean, and spacious two-story building with areas set up for all types of exercise, from strength training to aerobics to various sports; it even has a pool for swimming laps. Dimitri visits often, mainly using things like the bench press, the squat rack, or the deadlift. He’s run into Edelgard lifting weights here a few times too, though she seems to prefer the punching bags, from what he’s seen.

“The test is simple,” Edelgard says when they reach the treadmills, set up near the windows that span almost the entirety of one wall. “Whoever can run faster on the treadmill without falling wins.”

“How will we know who ran faster?” Dimitri asks. “The treadmills are spread too far apart for us to see the numbers on any other than our own.”

As if on cue, Petra Macneary, Edelgard’s friend and roommate who works at the rec center, wanders over to them with a wave.

“I will be making sure that neither of you is lying about your speed,” she says politely, but Dimitri thinks he spots an excited twinkle in her eye. He can’t imagine she gets too many opportunities to do something silly like this at work. “Also, I will be spotting you during the next challenge.”

At Petra’s recommendation, they warm up with a few stretches before hopping onto the treadmills. Petra stands behind them and watches as they both set their speed at a slow walk to start out. It’s not long, however, before they’re both at around 4 miles per hour, a brisk walking pace. Edelgard increases hers to about 4.5, according to Petra, and starts jogging. When Dimitri reaches the same speed, he finds himself still walking, likely due to his legs being much longer than Edelgard’s.

She pushes her speed up to 5, then 5.5, and her jogging turns into running. Dimitri does the same, able to easily keep the pace with his eager, impatient sister. After a few solid moments in which neither of them attempt to outdo the other, Dimitri leans over and ups his pace to 6 miles per hour. Edelgard notices this before Petra even has a chance to announce it and ups her speed to match his.

At this point, they’ve reached a decently rigorous running speed, but Dimitri can go faster. With every press of the button, Edelgard is there, matching him. It’s insane to watch. Her legs are so short, and they’re moving so fast now that they sort of look like they’re disappearing, like in a cartoon. There’s no way she’ll be able to keep up such a sprint for much longer.

Dimitri reaches forward to increase his speed once again, but he’s still looking at Edelgard instead of directly in front of him, and his hand misses where he thought the button was. Having already been distracted, this stumble is his downfall.

It happens in slow motion—the way one foot trips over the other, the way he flails in a vain attempt to save himself, the feeling of his body landing face-first on the treadmill, the rubbing of the tread against his cheek. He can hear Edelgard laughing, and she jumps up onto the edges of her treadmill so she doesn’t also meet her doom. For a moment, he just lies there in defeat.

Petra rushes over and turns the treadmill off, but not before announcing Dimitri’s speed: 6.7 miles per hour. She helps Dimitri to his feet, then checks Edelgard’s treadmill. Her eyebrows raise slightly at the speed.

“6.9 miles per hour,” she says incredulously.

“Nice,” she and Edelgard add in unison.

Dimitri shakes his head. “Fine, fine. You win this round, I suppose.”

“It’s okay,” Edelgard says, patting his arm in faux sympathy. “It’s not your fault your big, dumb feet got in the way.”

After a few moments of recovery, Petra leads them over to the weightlifting area for the strength challenge. The goal for this one is even simpler: whoever can lift more weight on the bench press wins.

Since Petra can’t spot them both at once, Dimitri and Edelgard take turns, with Edelgard going first. For her small stature, she ends up being able to lift more than Dimitri expected—nearly 150 pounds, including the weight of the bar itself. He supposes she _is_ more buff than most women of her size; he just never thought about it until now.

Unfortunately for her, she’s still no match for Dimitri, who has been notoriously strong his whole life, in addition to being a foot taller than her and probably close to twice her weight. As such, he benches about 300 pounds.

“You have already surpassed Edelgard,” Petra says at one point. “You do not have to keep going.”

Well, it’s been a little while since he last lifted weights anyway, and Edelgard looks like she’s enjoying watching him. As kids, she used to show off his strength— _I bet my brother can lift more than you!_ she’d jeer. When he inevitably did, she’d cheer and hug him, then stick her tongue out at whomever he had just defeated. If it was a bet in which money or other prizes were involved, she’d split the spoils with him. Some things never change.

Once they say their farewells to Petra and exit the rec center, Edelgard pulls out her phone.

“I texted Claude while you were lifting,” she says. “He’ll be at our building with the materials for the knowledge challenge at one.”

It makes sense that Claude would be the person to administer this challenge; he _is_ their resident Knower of Random Facts. He’s so well-rounded that it’s almost astounding. They could ask him about any topic in the world, and he’d be able to tell them about it. He’s like a walking, talking Google.

Dimitri and Edelgard grab lunch together, since they’re already out and about. As Dimitri shovels mouthful after mouthful of food into his mouth, Edelgard comments, “Perhaps we should have had an eating challenge as well.”

“You cannot expect me to _not_ be hungry after benching 300 pounds,” Dimitri replies defensively in between bites.

Edelgard just giggles and snaps a picture of him, presumably for Instagram, or maybe Twitter. He can only imagine what her caption will be. The last time she posted a photo of him, her caption read, _my friends keep calling my brother a himbo and i am unfortunately inclined to agree._ Dimitri still doesn’t know what a “himbo” is, and he’s not going to ask.

On the way back to their dormitory, they run into Claude, who has his laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

“Why do you need that?” Dimitri asks.

“Well, see,” Claude says, “I could’ve just put all my trivia questions into my Notes app and read them to you off my phone, but then I thought of something more fun that requires a laptop.”

“Oh no,” Edelgard says.

Edelgard brings them both back to her dorm room on the second floor. Like Dimitri’s dorm on the first floor, it’s laid out like an apartment, complete with a shared living room and kitchen and two bedrooms on each side. Edelgard’s and Bernadetta’s bedrooms are on one side; Petra and Dorothea’s are on the other.

No one else is in the living room, so they set up there. Claude pulls an HDMI cable out of his bag and plugs one end into his laptop and the other end into the TV. After some fiddling, Claude’s laptop screen shows up on the TV. Dimitri doesn’t know what most of the apps on Claude’s desktop even are.

“Yes!” Claude says. “We’re in business, baby!”

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “Dare I ask what you have prepared for us?”

Claude digs around in his file folders and opens up a PowerPoint presentation. On the screen are a bunch of rows and columns with numbers from 100 to 500 on them, as well as six categories at the top, ranging from sports to history to pop culture. It looks very suspiciously like a bootleg _Jeopardy!_ game.

Edelgard smacks her forehead. “I should’ve known you’d go all out with this.”

“Well, I was thinking about doing _Kahoot!_ instead,” Claude says, “but I get to have more control this way. So.”

Dimitri tries his hardest, but he’s not surprised when Edelgard wins in the end; she’s quicker to the punch, and she remembers more random tidbits of specific information than Dimitri does. He performs particularly abysmally in the pop culture section (how was he supposed to know that Lady Gaga’s real name is Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta?), but for what it’s worth, he’s much better at the sports section than Edelgard. Their scores end up being closer than he first anticipated; perhaps he hasn’t forgotten as much as he thought he had. A few times, they even blurt out the answer simultaneously, and Claude has to either decide who said it a fraction of a second faster, or just give them equal points.

After Claude leaves, Edelgard turns on the PlayStation 4 and grabs a controller.

“The next challenge is courage,” she says as she closes the blinds, “so I’ve picked out a horror game for us to play. First one to get scared or startled loses. This is my first time playing it too, so I don’t know what’s coming.”

Dimitri doesn’t catch the name of the game, but it’s single-player, so Dimitri decides to let Edelgard use the controller. He knows she feels more secure when she’s the one in control, and he’ll probably be terrified enough without actually being the one in the driver’s seat, so to speak.

“Let’s see,” Edelgard mutters as she loads her save. “Where was I again? Oh, that’s right. Ugh.” She wrinkles her nose at the screen, which shows the player character standing at the entrance to a sewer. “I put this part off for so long, I forgot I was putting it off.”

Reluctantly, she moves forward; the murky sewer water makes sloshing sounds with each step. The lighting is dim, and everything is covered in dirt and grime. It’s eerily silent save for some ominous sound effects in the background here and there—banging noises, scratching, creaking.

Edelgard keeps moving through the tunnels and rusty metal grates, grabbing items and reading the occasional document along the way. There hasn’t been a single jump-scare yet, just a continuous, sinking feeling of dread and disgust. Dimitri wonders how people enjoy these games.

“Eww,” Edelgard says as she passes by several piles of…well, whatever it is, it’s certainly unsanitary. Dimitri can hear flies buzzing, as well as a faint scrabbling, chittering sound. It gets louder as Edelgard continues down the narrow path. Her knuckles turn white on the controller.

She turns a corner, and a chorus of high-pitched squeaks and hisses makes them both start. At the sight of the source—a horde of large, angry, hyper-realistic rats—Edelgard yells and drops the controller.

Dimitri snatches the controller from the floor and fumbles for the pause button. Once he’s stopped the game, he reaches tentatively for one of Edelgard’s trembling hands. She grabs onto his and squeezes it. Her eyes are vacant.

Dimitri gently pulls her to his chest, and she lets him, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s alright, El,” he says softly, stroking her back. “It’s not real. They’re not real.”

For as long as Dimitri can remember, Edelgard has had a paralyzing fear of rats and mice. She likes to say it’s because she probably had rat-related trauma in a past life. Dimitri always wants to tell her that she doesn’t have to have an explanation or an excuse, that phobias don’t listen to reason, but she’s too proud, and he won’t push it. Everyone has things they tell themselves so they can sleep at night, he supposes.

Edelgard is quiet for a long time. Finally, when she isn’t shaking anymore and her breathing has returned to normal, she says, “Looks like you win this round.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “Oh, come on. That was a fluke. If it were anything else, I would have been out in no time.”

“Well, in that case,” Edelgard says, pulling away from him, “then the treadmill thing was probably a fluke, too. You just got distracted. I’m sure if we actually measured how fast our bodies could possibly run, you’d beat me. So either way, we’re even.” The strength is returning to her voice now, and the gleam is back in her eyes.

“So this last challenge is the deciding factor, then,” Dimitri says. “Skill, was it?”

“That’s right,” Edelgard says. “You know that arcade in the mall? That’s where we’ll be doing it. Tonight. You should bring your friends to cheer you on.”

Dimitri raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask. He’ll find out soon enough.

—

The arcade is busier than Dimitri expected. He had assumed that they were all but obsolete, but here on a Saturday night, it’s actually pretty decently crowded. He managed to convince Sylvain to come along with him, and Sylvain managed to convince Felix and Ingrid, so now they’re headed toward the back of the arcade, where Edelgard said she’d be.

“She couldn’t have worn something brighter?” Felix complains.

“That’s Edelgard for you,” Dimitri says. “The only colors she wears are black, white, and red.”

“And those first two aren’t even colors,” Sylvain adds.

“Oh, we are _not_ having this debate again,” Ingrid says.

Luckily, they spot Edelgard before Sylvain can even begin his tangent, chatting with her friends Hubert, Ferdinand, and Dorothea (an odd combination of personalities, to be sure).

“Uh-oh,” Sylvain says. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

Dimitri frowns. “What? Why?”

Sylvain points at the machine next to Edelgard: a _Dance Dance Revolution_ game, easily identifiable by its twin platforms on the floor, with four arrows on each one. There’s a metal safety bar mounted to the back of each platform, one red and one blue.

“Dimitri!” Edelgard says, as if she’s pleasantly surprised to see him here. “It’s time. Are you ready?” She gestures to the _DDR_ machine.

Dimitri chuckles. “I hope so.”

Edelgard slides her coins into the slot and takes her place on the right platform, the one with the red safety bar, so Dimitri stands on the left.

“There are five difficulty levels,” Edelgard says when the screen to choose a song pops up. “Beginner, Basic, Difficult, Expert, and Challenge.”

“There isn’t just a Medium?” Dimitri says with a dismayed shake of his head.

“I think that’s what Difficult is supposed to be,” Edelgard says.

Dimitri lets her choose the song; he’s overwhelmed just looking at the titles. Why are so many of them in all caps? What do the different numbers mean? Is all the flashing really necessary?

Dimitri rolls his neck and shoulders, cracks his fingers like he’s preparing for an important football game. Is this a big deal? No, but never let it be said that he doesn’t try his hardest at everything put in front of him.

The song is EDM, of course, but the beat isn’t too terribly fast, at least not at first. It’s not too simple, but Dimitri soon finds the rhythm, even though he can’t remember the last time he played something like this.

He’s not comfortable for long. The first few double arrows are fine, but the combos start to catch him off guard more and more. He barely has time to breathe in between moves, and by the refrain, he’s scrambling to keep up with the arrows—how are they moving so fast? How are his feet supposed to move that fast? He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, but the arrows all start to look the same, a jumbled mess of colors that makes his head spin. He can hear both his and Edelgard’s friends cheering them on, but he barely registers their words.

When the song finishes, Dimitri breathes a long sigh of relief. He can’t remember the last time he was so stressed. It’s as if someone took all the stress of finals week, distilled it into a fine powder, and injected it directly into his bloodstream.

Edelgard wipes her brow, but otherwise, if the song was as difficult for her as it was for Dimitri, she doesn’t show it. When their scores show up on the screen, he’s completely and utterly unsurprised to find that Edelgard has won.

“Yes!” she says, pumping her fist in the air. She exchanges high fives and fist bumps with her friends, while Sylvain pats Dimitri on the shoulder. Hubert says something about how he always knew Edelgard was superior, and Ferdinand says she should compete with him next.

“Well, this was fun,” Edelgard says, turning to face him. “Thank you for indulging me for a little while, Dimitri.”

“Wait,” Dimitri blurts. Now that the challenges are over, the question that’s been brewing in the back of his mind for the past twenty-four hours has finally come to the forefront. “Come over here.”

He gestures for her to follow him over to the side, away from the rest of their friends, who, thankfully, start chatting among themselves after a few seconds.

“What is it?” Edelgard asks, folding her arms over her chest. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, no,” Dimitri says. “It’s nothing like that. I was just wondering…” He wrings his hands as he searches for the right words. “What was the real reason for doing all this?”

He knows there’s something more to these shenanigans that she plotted so elaborately. He just can’t figure out what it is. Has she been buttering him up all weekend so she can ask him a favor? Is she about to break some bad news to him?

Edelgard doesn’t play dumb, doesn’t pretend she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Instead, she looks down at the neon carpet and fiddles with her hair.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she starts. “And don’t you dare tell your friends about this, or no one will ever find your body.”

“I won’t,” Dimitri says, subconsciously leaning forward so he can hear her better.

“I just—I feel like even though we go to the same college and live in the same building, we don’t get to see each other much,” Edelgard says. “It’s been so long since we’ve really been close.”

During their teenage years, from middle school through most of high school, Dimitri and Edelgard clashed, grew apart, blamed each other for their own problems. They were both dealing with the development of undiagnosed and untreated mental illness, which was only exacerbated by adolescence and the unexpected death of Dimitri’s father, Edelgard’s stepfather.

Now, in their second year of college, much farther along in the healing process, no one would guess the vitriol that they once spat at each other. Most days, Dimitri forgets. The truth, though, is that they’re still trying to reclaim the years they lost.

“Really,” Edelgard continues, “I just…wanted to spend more time with you, but I didn’t know how to say it. So I came up with these little challenges.” She looks away. Even in the darkness and the colorful, flashing lights, Dimitri thinks he can see pink in her cheeks.

He can’t help it. He lets out a giggle.

Edelgard glares at him, open-mouthed. “I told you not to laugh!”

“I’m not laughing _at_ you,” Dimitri says, the laughter tumbling past his lips. “I’m laughing because—”

Because he’s happy. Because he’s spent the last seven years wishing things could go back to the way they were when he and Edelgard were children. Because he’s glad his sister wants to spend time with him, even though he’s awkward and “uncool” and too sincere for his own good, even though they used to try to kill each other because their grief and anger and confusion was too big for their bodies.

“Because you could have just _told_ me,” he finishes.

“I didn’t know how,” Edelgard says, wiping at her eye.

“Like that,” Dimitri replies. “Like you did just now. Or you could have just, I don’t know, asked me if I wanted to go get lunch or watch a movie or something.”

Edelgard chuckles. “Well, now I know for next time, I suppose.” She glances over her shoulder at where their friends are still standing and talking. “Anyway, we should probably get back over there.” Her lips curl into a playful smile. “How would you feel about taking me on in one of those racing games?”

“I’m in,” Dimitri says, and he is. He is.

Edelgard beams and grabs him by the wrist, just like when they were kids, and as always, Dimitri lets her pull him along.


End file.
